


say goodnight n go

by MichellesBoh (michellesbohh)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Not FFH compliant, Omg and they were roommates, There's zero angst, Who am I, it's fluff, post-Homecoming, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 00:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellesbohh/pseuds/MichellesBoh
Summary: “And you kissed me? I-- what?”Michelle is itching to back away into the sanctuary of her bedroom, butmannersor whatever tell her it’d be pretty rude just to leave without responding.Then again, she’s kissed him so maybe she can stand to be a little rude. For balance and all that.Can’t have Peter coming to any entirely correct conclusions about her feelings for him. No. Absolutely not.With measured nonchalance, she tilts her head at him, one foot already stepping backwards, “Did I?”Michelle hides from her feelings and maybe there's a cat.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68
Collections: All Marvel works that I like (or most of them)





	say goodnight n go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tvfanatic97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvfanatic97/gifts).



> Happiest of Birthday's to T and me continuing my saga of posting birthday gifts late WOO HOO.
> 
> All mistakes are mine and should be expected at this point lol

She doesn’t know why she does it, but once it’s done...well, it’s _done._

Peter just… stands there in the awkward aftermath, most likely doing a mental backtrack to determine how he’d gone from running into MJ in the hall on her way to bed to feeling her lips pressed fleetingly against his as he moved to pass her and she turned her head at the last minute. 

They’d both frozen a moment, both a little breathless at how close they were standing and his hand settled easily at the small of her back.

He’d said goodnight and she’d echoed it and then she--

“And you kissed me? I-- _what_?”

Michelle is itching to back away into the sanctuary of her bedroom, but _manners_ or whatever tell her it’d be pretty rude just to leave without responding. 

Then again, she’s _kissed_ him so maybe she can stand to be a little rude. For balance and all that. 

Can’t have Peter coming to any entirely correct conclusions about her feelings for him. No. Absolutely not. 

With measured nonchalance, she tilts her head at him, one foot already stepping backwards, “Did I?”

And then she’s gone. 

She’s safely behind a closed ( _and locked)_ door where she can finally breathe. Her bedroom is decorated in deep, saturated jewel tones and the warmth the colors exude has always calmed her. 

It’s her space, where she can find a little piece of mind and where she can have her internal freak outs externally, like...if she wants to, ya know?

MJ _would_ scream into the pillow but one of her roommates (read: her only roommate) is an asshole with super abilities and super fucking hearing and he would _hear_ her and she simply cannot embarrass herself like that today. 

She’s really done enough already.

* * *

And, okay. Maybe she’s being immature (she is), but MJ has gone out of her way to avoid Peter since her brain momentarily inhabited another plane of existence and her stupid body decided to kiss him. 

Honestly she knows that wizard dude Peter sometimes deals with is all about that astral projection life and she has to remind herself to ask Peter to--

No. Right. She’s avoiding him. At this point it’s just inconvenient. She has questions she needs answered. 

And almost as if everything in her life is designed to bring maximum misery, Peter is suddenly _always_ home. Like, yeah he lives here and him lounging across their couch at 6pm is definitely within the realm of possibility, but the thing is, MJ gets home at the same time every day. 

She’s been sharing space with the ghost of Peter for 2 years now, and up until recent _ahem_ events...she could count on one hand (ONE) the amount of times Peter had been home when she’d come in. 

So far this is day 4 where she’s turned the key in the lock and swung the door open to Peter posed on their couch with the TV starting a new episode of some Netflix nonsense. He’s arranged himself too purposefully to have actually been sitting like that for long and she rolls her eyes to herself when she turns to retrieve her keys.. 

If she faces the door a little longer to tamp down her smile, that’s her business, okay?

“Uh, hey--”

“Hey!” she’s gotten this down to a science and she hangs her coat on the hook by the door and shucks off her boots in one go. She’s already halfway to her salvation by the time he finishes greeting her.   
  


“--MJ.” 

She pretends not to hear the disappointment in his voice as she clicks her bedroom door shut and leans her forehead against it. 

She’d thought that today might’ve been the day she’d be able to have a conversation with him, but the way he’d perked up just that little bit when she opened the door, the endless questions she saw in his eyes? The way his eyes dipped down to her lips and lingered? She wasn’t ready and she flops back onto her bed, exhausted from work and from long shitty commutes and from the weight of these fucking _feelings._

With a groan that she long since stopped caring if he heard, she rolls over and clutches at her pillow. If she just shuts her eyes for a minute…

* * *

She’s going to die. 

At least that’s the first thought that crosses her mind when she hears the tell tale creak of her window being pushed open and a masked figure, holding a bulging bag tumbles onto her bedroom floor. 

“ _Ow_. Fuck…” 

Wait, that sounds like--

She flips on the lamp she keeps on her bedside table and that’s when she notices that her phone reads 2:22am. 

Nice.

Her eyes slide sleepily back over to her intruder, still squeezed shut a little at the abrupt introduction of said bedside lamp and, _oh._

Okay, this is actually worse. She takes it back, a burglar would be preferable to this. Peter whips off his mask when she fits him with her most unimpressed stare and raises an eyebrow. 

MJ hates that she likes the way his hair curls up even more after he’s been wearing the mask for awhile. She thinks idly about what it would feel like between her fingers, how Peter might react if she tugged on it and--

No. _No_. She needs to focus. Peter’s not making any move to leave her bedroom, looking around at all the different posters and the bookshelf she’d made him lug up here when they’d moved in, littered with random trinkets and other odd finds she’s collected over the years. 

When he finally looks back at her, he pulls his lips to the side, mouth opening and closing twice as he searches for what to say. 

Panic shoots through her at the idea that he might bring up the kiss and she racks her brain for something to say. It seems to occur to Peter in that same moment that this is the longest they’ve both been in the same room since. 

“You just came in through my window?” She figures that’s as good a place to start and she is actually curious, so. Wins all around. 

“Well mine was locked so..”

She squints, “Convenient.”

“What, you think I did on purpose?”

“Well…” She wouldn’t put it past him to resort to a tactic both so extreme and so ill conceived just to get her to talk to him. 

“MJ! Of course I--”

“What if I’d been naked or something?” Peter chokes. 

“I mean I peeked really fast to make sure you weren’t.” Her head spins at the insinuation that Peter had crept up to her window, watched her in bed. 

Her traitorous mind shifts to the idea of him seeing her doing more than just sleeping and she has to consciously hold back a shudder. 

“But if I _had_ been naked, you still would’ve seen me. How is that the solution?”

“I was just trying to be--”

“Honestly, Spider-man? A Peeping Tom? It’s more likely than you think…”

“MJ I would never--”

“So what’s in the bag?” She’s sitting up fully now, leaning back against her headboard, painfully aware that she has one of those pimple dots on her left cheek and that she’s just in her thin sleep shirt and no bra.

She pulls her knees up to rest her arms across them and she feels better. 

Peter, for his part, lights up at her question, gently placing the bag down on the carpet next to her bed and opening it to reveal a tabby cat, perfectly curled up and sleeping. 

“Found this little lady in a tree around the corner. Seems like her tag got lost too. I thought maybe...” he trails off, distracted. 

Michelle leans forward letting her concern for modesty fall away with the blanket, as she leans to get a closer look. It’s a tiny little thing, probably still technically a kitten, and when Peter picks her up, she makes the quietest meow of protest before settling into the crook of his elbow. 

And that’s when she sees it. 

“Peter are you bleeding?” His eyes go wide, looking down at his arms and seeing the deep gash he’d been ignoring since he noticed she was awake. 

“Oh, yeah. I tried to stop a robbery and the guy got one good swing in with his knife before I webbed him up,” he whispers, running the tips of his gloved fingers over the kitten’s ears. “Just my luck, huh?” 

MJ grimaces as the blood trickles slowly into the torn fabric of his suit and reaches out, “Give me the cat.” 

“Huh?”

“The cat, Peter. I’ll take it and you can go change and wash up.” 

For a moment they just stare at each other until Peter sets the kitten down onto her soft comforter. 

“I’ll be...uh right back?” He says, but she can tell he’s asking. Inviting him back after he’s taken care of his business means they’ll have even more time to talk, something MJ’s sure he’s aware she’s been putting off on purpose.

“Do you, um...need any help with,” she gestures towards his wound and he shakes his head. 

“This? Just a scratch.” And with that, he slips back out her window and disappears. She’s so preoccupied with the kitten that it almost doesn’t click for her but then--

_.”...mine was locked…”_

Her stomach flips because if his window wasn’t locked, then that means he really _did_ only come in in the hopes that it might help them bridge this gap that’s been growing wider and wider between them since that night. 

She spends the next ten minutes running through all the scenarios in her mind about why this is a bad idea and at the end of her spiraling, Peter pops his head through her door, hair freshly washed and still a little bit damp. 

He smiles at her and she finds herself smiling back easily, allowing the tingling butterfly feeling it elicits to spread freely as he steps closer. Peter looks a little unsure of himself standing there in his too long pajama pants and with a thick bandage poking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

_Just a scratch, eh?_

MJ rolls her eyes, but takes pity on him and tilts her head towards the corner of her bed opposite her and he sighs in relief, climbing on close enough that he can still reach out and run his fingers along the kitten’s tail. 

“MJ?”

“Mmm?”

“I know you probably regret what happened the other day, but I don’t wanna lose your--”

“I don’t regret it.” 

It comes out so quiet that she’s certain that an average person wouldn’t have even heard it. But Peter is no average man, he’s her best friend if she was honest with herself. He’s the person she _wants_ to see when she comes home and every day this week she’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t leap a little, every time she opened the door and saw him there. 

Peter’s the person who helps her drunkenly up the stairs when she gets too stressed out about her midterms and looks for her relief in the bottom of several vodka sodas.

The person who puts water and aspirin on her bedside table before he plugs her phone into the charger and makes sure her alarms are set. He’s the person who always goes to the bodega that’s 2 blocks out of the way because the one by their building doesn’t carry the oat milk that she likes. 

He’s just...Peter. And somewhere deep down. Somewhere underneath all of her fears and insecurities, he’s made a home in heart. Put down roots and put up wallpaper all before she’d even realized she’d invited him in. 

Looking at him now, moonlight casting shadows even in the dull glow of her lamp, his eyes are open, and curious. There’s a warm depth in the tenderness of his gaze and she ignores the protests of their new furry visitor in favor of climbing out of the blankets and into his orbit. 

And when she presses her lips to his this time, Peter is ready for her. He threads a hand into her hair in an instant, pulling her closer and exhaling sharply through his nose as their mouths move in tandem. 

MJ pulls away first, staying close and getting her fingers up into his hair the way she’d only dreamed about before this night. She keeps her gaze steady, as she repeats again, firmly and unshakably, “I don’t regret it.”

Peter barks out a quiet laugh at that, cupping her cheek when she darts in for another kiss. “And, Peter?” 

“Mmm?” 

“We’re keeping the cat.” 

**Author's Note:**

> It took a very soft turn at the end but I didn't hate it so here it is! Find me on tumblr at @michellesbohh!


End file.
